


have and hold

by fioreofthemarch



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, i dont know how to tag smut really, zelink, zelink smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fioreofthemarch/pseuds/fioreofthemarch
Summary: It starts by the fire, heady and hot underneath the cool summer rain. And then its ends in fire almost every night, as well as most mornings, and some afternoons too, and as long and as often as they can manage.





	have and hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honestground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestground/gifts).



It starts one night by the fire.

Not the fire in his home in Hateno, as Link would have liked, where they could be wrapped up in blankets and furs and all-together safe from the dangers of the wild.

This fire burns low, fizzled by a cool summer rain, steam rising in low hisses as the heavy droplets fall down from an angry sky.

She’d been cold; his sun-gold goddess rendered lithe, and human, and _here_. She’d asked if she could borrow his hood. “I just want to get the rain off my face.” she’d said. “Just a little while we sit.”

Link obliges as always. He fastens the clasp around her neck, a little tighter than it should have be, hands lingering a little longer than they should have. Her hair smells of rain and Hyrule Herb, her neck just close enough to kiss. And just as he moves to pull away, Zelda’s own hands shoot up to her neck, catching him. _Don’t go._

The rest is like smoke, heady and hot, but wisping away from him before he can catch hold. Link wraps his arms around her, lips finding her neck like he’d so wanted them to – holding her tight, making her _his_ , but she isn’t one to be made to do or to be anything. First she gasps through the thrill of having him so close, but then she spins around and pounces, and Link finds himself thumped against the ground with an emphatic wheeze.

“Hey there, Hero.” she says simply as she straddles him, hands gripping at his shirt to pull him up towards her, and for a single exalting moment Link’s vision goes white. The kiss is fiery, laden with one hundred years of desire and desperation. It’s not the first they’ve shared since he got her back, but it’s a surprise nonetheless. Zelda has her legs wrapped around his torso, both hands buried deep in his long, rain-damp hair. She gives it a tug, and Link lets out something between a whine and a moan, the suddenness of it blinding him once again. And he’s pulling in return, hands seeking beneath the hood for her hair, and then beneath her shirt for her skin, his fingers tracing along the shivering gooseprickles and soft impressions of bone along her back. She arcs backwards from him, hands against his shoulders, pushing him away. Link isn’t sure where it comes from, but he’s growling in her ear, anger white hot in his throat.

“Where are _you_ going?”

Zelda laughs softly, caught in his embrace. She rocks forward, returning to him, her lips pressed up against his cheekbones, and whispers the honey into his ear.

“Nowhere…but neither are you.”

Link’s breath hitches as she draws a hand to his throat, thumb tucked under his chin, pushing his head back, making him look at her. Emerald eyes study him like he’s a specimen – something to figure out, something to unravel. She draws her legs back beside her, still straddling in his lap, and the weight of her forces him to brace an arm against the ground.

He tries to steal a kiss, but she’s expecting it, turning to catch his lips with her check. She giggles - the corners of her mouth curling a devious little smile that sends a shot of fire through him. An arm around her still, he seizes her closer. “You’re _mine_.”

Zelda clicks her teeth. “No.” And her thumb slides effortlessly across his skin, pushing hard against his throat. Link’s rasps, mouth agape as she holds him there, hostage to his own need for her. She grins, eyes never leaving his. “ _You_ are _mine_.”

Then there’s a hand against his leg, tracing the inner of his thigh. Her free hand works his belt buckle while the other keeps him suspended underneath her. Link scrambles and scrapes against the ground, panicked and thrilled and overcome all at once. “Zelda,” he wheezes as he feels the belt slacken.

She releases her thumb from his throat, and traces the line of his jaw. The static from her touch is outdone by the words that then fall from her lips. “This what you want, Hero?” she hums softly. The little smile never leaves her face, flecked now with contempt. Soft fingers ply through his briefs; Link tries to breathe through the shock and the thrill, but she’s got him in a bind and the air escapes his lungs as a reedy whine.

“ _Zel…Zelda…_ ” His words are water; he’s been broken against her grip. Link desperately seeks purchase, a hand gripped at her back and another entwined in the grass as she works him through a string of moans and pleading gasps.

Zelda is silent the whole time, perched above him and watching with calm and assessing eyes. She listens and waits, methodical, matching the rhythm of her hand to the rhythm of his need. And soon he’s begging, pining, words little more than wisps of smoke against her neck; _please, let me._

Link hears nothing from her except a small, satisfied groan that escapes her lips as he climaxes beneath her. Her hold on him loosens, and he’s thwacked again against the soft ground, eyes lolling in his head, body and soul pleasantly light.

When he comes to she’s already swiveled off of him, and is unfastening his hood. She holds it out to him wordlessly, the command unspoken but clear. _Clean yourself up_. But he’s not ready for that. Still splayed out on the grass, his mind seeks the relief that his body now feels.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks.

Zelda shrugs in a way that lets him know he’s not getting a straight answer. “Nothing.” she answers, not even turning to look at him. She lets the hood fall to the ground.

Still a little dumbstruck and high on the sight of her, Link watches silently as she stands and walks to her tent. The words are there in his throat but he’s in no state to talk, let alone beg. _Wait. Stay._ But she’s already gone.

* * *

Link walks dreamlike through the next two days, wondering if it’s just his memory-addled mind fucking with him or if he really did spend a few delicious moments in the hands of the Princess. He wants to ask her about it but can’t for the life of him find the words. _So, remember that time you…_ no. He couldn’t. She made the first move by the fire. She could make the next. **  
**

But Zelda is little more than infuriatingly coy, teasing even, like she knows he was the last one to be in on a secret. As they cross the fields of Hyrule, she’s the picture of innocence; riding atop her mount with her eyes set forward in silent determination, or walking alongside Link with her prim hands kept entirely to herself. But every now and then she makes him _wonder…_

One night he’s worried about making camp in time for nightfall, so she puts a hand on his shoulder, and for half a heartbeat her pinkie finger traces the line of his neck.

Then later she’s finishing off a charred meat skewer, and her eyes meet his as she licks the remaining juices from her fingers.

And then, with the full moon flanked by an infinite mobile of stars overhead, Zelda announces she’s going for a walk to the nearby river. “It’s a hot night.” she says. “I might wade into the water.” 

Link turns in time to see her discard her royal blue blouse over her head, before pausing to undo the button at the top of her embroidered white shirt. She walks away from the camp slowly, purposefully, the light of her right hand as her only guide, and Link is up on his feet to follow her before he even realises that he’s moving.

She’s disappeared into the copse of trees by the river, and for one horrible moment Link considers that she might never have been real. But then she’s there, standing by the bank, sly smile on her face and a hand raised to beckon him over. They stand together by the river, alone save the rushing waters and chirping crickets. Two days of confusion and ferver swim in Link’s head, and before he knows it he’s reached out and is running a finger along the line of her cheekbones. She snakes away from him, but Link follows, strong arming her into an embrace.

“Tell me it wasn’t a dream.” he pleads.

Zelda laughs, face radiant, crows feet clawing at the corners of her sweet, round eyes. “It wasn’t a dream, Link.”

He can’t stop himself then. He captures her lips in a frenzied kiss, and they stumble backwards on the grass until they thump unceremoniously against a wide oak tree. Zelda swaddles him in her arms, if she’s surprised by the kiss he’ll never know. An exhilarating realisation; she was expecting this all along.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, lips tracing the soft line of her jaw

She tongues a tooth, a little cheeky. “I wanted to see how long you could wait.”  
  
His eyes are wide and boyish, almost to the point of being pathetic. “I _couldn’t_ wait.”

“I know,” Zelda grins. “But _I_ could.”

A second realisation: she wasn’t just expecting this. She _wanted_ this. “It isn’t fair.” he protests. “You can’t use me like this.”

Link regrets his words as Zelda wraps a hand through his hair and yanks. “What if I can?” she asks, knowing the answer. Link yelps, eyes almost rolling back, the stars above exploding into shards of light.

He’s got her pinned against a tree, but it’s Zelda who is in control. She swoops him into another honey-rich kiss, dropping her hands again to his belt. The buckle clanks free with a sound that snaps whip-like in Link’s ears. He’s _hers_ ; he knows it and accepts it, drinking it in just like he drinks deep the warmth of her body against his. He ventures a shy question, tugging the hem of her white shirt upwards: _you want to?_

Zelda’s languid eyes regard him silently for a few moments; deciding if he really does deserve it. Finally she nods, and Link, never much the praying type, thanks the stars above and the earth below that he’s been gifted life in this moment.

Feverish against each other, they scramble to remove the rest of their clothes, stealing kisses at the flashes of skin revealed by each piece of discarded fabric. The hot summer air gives Zelda’s skin a soft sheen, and Link thinks earnestly that it makes her glow. He braces her against the tree, arms bracketing her in place, lifting her up against the soft bark. A weak mewl escapes him as she takes him into her hands again, this time guiding him towards her. The sounds of the river roar through his mind like a storm, until Link realises it’s just the rushing of blood in his ears.

He’d wanted to start slow. But having her, and holding her, with her silken skin pressed against his and her gentle whimpers in his ear…he couldn’t have held himself back if he’d wanted to. He grips her tight, fingers digging firm into her flesh, aching through each blissful thrust.

Zelda doesn’t seem to mind. She bites her lip, head thrown back and hair fountained down against the trunk of the tree, ragged breaths shuddering through her. If she’s enjoying this she’ll never say. But he feels it in the way her hands claw and scrabble against his bare skin, the way she urges him faster and deeper, the heels of her feet digging tight into the muscles of his back and he realises; maybe she doesn’t need to.

And he’d wanted to pull away before he finished, but he no longer has a say. Zelda holds him close, a hand again at his throat, sensing his apprehension, softly moaning, _I don’t care, I don’t care_. So Link does as he’s bid, driving through the last rapturous jolts until he’s done – spent – muscles weak and shivering, soon no longer able to hold her. They spill down onto the pile of soft grass and forgotten clothes, both breathless and heaving. Zelda has a hand entwined in his hair, fingers running through its length, and Link realises that it had been tied when he’d walked down to the river. He pads around their clothes for the cobalt leather tie, but gives up. _Who cares, Hero?_ When he looks up, Zelda has already bundled up her things. She gives him one last pacifying smile, and turns back towards their camp. 

* * *

It began with the fire, and now it ends in fire almost every night. And sometimes morning, and afternoon as well, and as often as they can, really. When they’re at the Castle, he finds his way to her chambers every night; sheets twisting and toes curling as they enjoy having the space of a full bed on which to enjoy each other. And then sometimes she summons him to her study, only to lock the door and keep him there for an hour or more, hands and mouth working him, their meeting always ending with his undignified whines and pleads for her to let him finish.

When they’re on the road they find their pleasure wherever they can make it work; in the tall grasses of a lush forest; in sharing a saddle, one hand on the reins and the other hand exploring elsewhere; on the banks of the Hylia River, and anywhere else they can find a little privacy.

But it’s best in Hateno. That place is theirs; where they are normal people, where they can be alone. Some mornings he wakes to the smell of pancakes and baked apple and finds Zelda in the kitchen preparing their breakfast. Among those cherished moments is the morning in the summer, when she decided that all she needed for covering was his Champion’s tunic. Link rose from his sleeping nook, head swimming with a hunger for something other than food, and wrapped his arms around her without a word. He spun her around and buried her morning hellos under an impassioned and boisterous kiss. And before she could protest, he pushed her up against the counter, and entered her the way he had in the copse by the river; desperate, and deep.

But after the fire, every night ends the same way; with Link returning to his own bed. In the Castle, in the house, in the wild, Link closes his eyes with his arms kept to himself; Zelda preferring to sleep alone.

One night he decides that despite the time he spends with her, he wants a little more. Maybe she can use him, but maybe he no longer has to enjoy it. With a twinge of shame he realises that he probably will regardless. He’d wanted to speak to her beforehand, but he found her in her room, sitting by a low burning candle, long hair hanging loose about her face and the straps of her thin chemise hanging loose about her shoulders. Even a spirit as unbreakable as his couldn’t hold out against her. They don’t even make it to the bed, finding their release against the lush royal-red rug spread across the stone floor. When they’re done, Zelda hands him his clothes, but Link pushes them away.

“No.” he says simply.

Zelda gazes at him unblinking, wholly unused to being challenged. “Excuse me?”

He struggles to find strength in his words, quietly aware of the cool night air against his bare skin. “If you kick me out again, I won’t come back.”

She folds her arms, unimpressed. “Won’t you now?”

“I mean it, Zelda.” He is determined not to back down. “Why do I have to go?”

She gazes at him with open mouth, eyes shimmering and incredulous.

Link doesn’t care. He’s given all of himself to her, night after night and day after day for months on end. He just wants a little in return. “ _Answer me._ ”

Her voice is small and raw. “Link…I…” she takes a deep breath. “I already lost you once. If I let myself love you and it happened again…”

Link shifts forward, hands cupping her face and raising it to his. He gives her a soft kiss, and under his touch she succumbs, folding into him. When it breaks he says, “If I have even a single hope of coming back to you…” he gives her a squeeze. “Of coming back to _this_ , then I’ll fight as hard as I can to make sure I do.”

His Princess says nothing. Her eyes drop to the floor; maybe she isn’t convinced. Link untangles himself from her, and resignedly, begins to bundle up his clothes.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” he says dutifully.

But then she has a hand on his arm, trapping him. When he turns back to her he sees her face is a mixture of hope and fear, of chance and apprehension. They’re suspended there, somewhere between lover and loved one, until finally she speaks.

“Link–” Zelda breathes.

“Yes?” he hums, expecting nothing but needing everything. But he sees the understanding in her eyes. She’s his, and he’s hers. 

Zelda sighs, and then she yields. “ _Stay._ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading/giving kudos/commenting! I really enjoyed writing this fic! 
> 
> If you are interested in more BOTW Zelink works by me, my main series' is [Champions and Beasts.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/747456)


End file.
